


When the Dealin’s Done

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-08
Updated: 2007-08-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Life is all about sizzle for rising poker star Jared Padalecki. He's always on the prowl for the next big win--or so he tells the press when they ask when he’ll give up the scene. Jensen Ackles, however, might prove the exception to his rule….Several years ago a boy with some intriguing rough edges dumped Jared and left town, maturing into a huge success. Now Jensen is back. And Jared’s friends predict if Jensen's as talented at bad behavior as he is at everything else, Jared will enjoy the fling of a lifetime!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** When the Dealin’s Done.  
**Pairing:** Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, Lauren Graham, Chad Michael Murray  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 | alternate universe, graphic m/m slash, minor het, real person fiction, drama, romance. Harlequin, baby!  
**Word Count:** 17,000  
**Summary:** Life is all about sizzle for rising poker star Jared Padalecki. He's always on the prowl for the next big win--or so he tells the press when they ask when he’ll give up the scene. Jensen Ackles, however, might prove the exception to his rule….  
Several years ago a boy with some intriguing rough edges dumped Jared and left town, maturing into a huge success. Now Jensen is back. And Jared’s friends predict if Jensen's as talented at bad behavior as he is at everything else, Jared will enjoy the fling of a lifetime!  
**Notes:** I’ve messed with Jared and Jensen’s ages a bit here. Jensen’s still the sexy older half, but birth years are off as is the exact difference in age.   
Written for [ ](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_harlequin/profile)[**spn_harlequin**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_harlequin/). More notes, including original prompt, at the end of the fic.  
  
  
  
  
  
 

**When the Dealin’s Done: Part 1.  
by keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
  
_I’ve made a life out of readin’ peoples faces,  
And knowin’ what their cards were by the way they held their eyes._  
  
  
**2003 World Series: Main Event: Final Table & Final Hand.**  
  
  
The game was Texas Hold’em, but nobody from Texas had won the main event since Jack Strauss in ’82.   
  
Jared Padalecki was born in San Antonio. Talented, brash, risky, and out to make a goddamn name for himself, the twenty-three year old was determined to become the youngest person ever to win that sweet gold bracelet. Today looked to mark that occasion, and so the crowd gathered in tighter. Went quiet, as the lights dimmed down and Jared tapped a single finger against his lips.  
  
One table, two players left. Mixed Hold’em with the blinds a cool million. Plenty of people would argue against Jared, cite statistics and excuses, but the young Texan just kept on sneaking up. Winning big, talking loud, staying in the game and keeping his hand in the pot.  
  
But Kim Manners had a reputation, too, and it didn't leave room for easy targets and wise-cracking boys with Lonestar roots.  
  
_Couple of tens for Manners. He’s reaching for chips. Raises it to 1.3. Jared **casually** calls the one point three million._  
  
Kim was in the lead, expression cool, at ease behind black shades. Tens against Padalecki’s queen-nine. Everyone was waiting for the flop-- _queen, eight, five!_ \--waiting for Padalecki to make magic _again_ , pairing his queen.  
  
_Manners first to act now. One and a half million chips._  
  
Jared chewed his lip, full-on thrumming with the wash of excitement through his veins. The corner of his mouth twitched, eyes slanting across the room gone stale with sweat and beer and breaths long held. He caught Chad’s gaze, watched his friend give a subtle nod. Encouraging. “All in,” Jared drawled a second later, pushing back in his chair and lacing both hands over his belly.  
  
_Padalecki’s gonna push! Does Kim wanna make his move now?_  
  
And there it was. That split-second between action and reaction. A mere quiver of doubt from Kim, and Jared knew. He _knew_ he had it, he’d won, he was the fucking world champion of poker. It was a dizzying, powerful, careless knowledge.   
  
“You don’t have a queen, do ya?” He laughed, enjoying himself now. He was beyond nerves, shot all to hell and feeling the lick of fire at his heels. “Go on. You can tell me, I’m already in.” Leaning forward, he thought he caught just a glimpse of irritation, _sweet frustration_ behind those mirrored lenses. Dropped his voice quieter, more meaningful. “Nah, you don’t have the bitch.”  
  
_And this could be it for Kim Manners._  
  
Kim said nothing, which really said it all. Just continued to shuffle his hand, pale strain etching the corners of his mouth.  
  
Jared licked his own, reached up and scratched underneath the brim of the straw outback he’d picked up at a gift shop outside Reno. Followed it up, scrubbing long fingers down his face. “I guess if you did you’d call, so…I got this one.”  
  
_Jared trying to turn the screws and mess with the mind._  
  
There was a whistle from somewhere in the crowd; Jared’s teeth gleamed in the harsh light, clean perspiration dark on his collar. Down his back. “No queen?”  
  
Kim’s voice came soft and measured. “No queen.”  
  
“Then I got ya.” A pause; Jared’s heart leaped, voice catching on a tremble of exhilaration one would’ve been hard-pressed to hear as anything other than sheer, unadulterated _pleasure._ Trap set, baited, and received. “You gotta pair? You got bullshit, man.”  
  
“I do have that,” Kim laughed, and the crowd tittered along with him…their acknowledgment of the frustration in the competition’s tone. Waiting for the draw to end it all.  
  
“So, hell, let’s go!” Jared clapped both hands together, shoved back and came to his feet. He was all easygoing grin now, none of the menace. Which was even worse, depending on who you asked and why. “Let’s do it!”   
  
_Jared trying to close another deal, Manners making a decision for what could be his tournament life._  
  
Kim hesitated, slippery fingers on a wet pole. “I think you’re on a draw.”  
  
“I definitely don’t have a good hand, but I think I’m gonna win.” It was a warning, spelled out in the cocky glint of brown-green hazel, in upturned lip and dimples dug down deep.   
  
But then, there weren’t too many who could resist the combination.  
  
“I think you gotta draw,” Kim repeated, slower and unhurried, like hell, even _he_ couldn’t believe he was really about to do this. But his refuge only lasted a moment before his hand came down, and Jared’s eyes lit up. “All right, you talked me into it.”  
  
_Here we go! Manners calls all in!_  
  
Jared grabbed hold of the closest person to him, saw Chad making his way down to the table. “You callin’? _Yes_ , this is it, baby!”   
  
_Jared Padalecki has put himself in the position to win this title! Gotta give him credit for making another sell here and getting Manners to call._  
  
Everybody, but _everybody’s_ eyes were on that fourth card as the dealer reached out, slid the turn over. The look of that single spade shining sunny-side up sent a mixed chorus of groans and cheers echoing through the room. Jared beamed brighter, slung an arm around his best friend, buried hot, flushed face against Chad’s neck as the dealer stretched for the fifth and final card.  
  
Jared couldn’t look. Throat too tight, all charm and useless energy gone, he sent up a prayer to whomever might be listening--maybe even a few who wouldn’t be--and breathed a litany of begging, desperation, childish hope. “Tell me it ain’t a ten, tell me it ain’t a motherfuckin’ ten.”  
  
“Don’t even look, man…there’s one card in there, ain’t no ten.” Chad wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, never had been, but damned if he wasn’t holding on tight now. Fingers caught up in glossy, messy curls as Jared’s big body vibrated with sick tension. “Ain’t no ten. Relax. Breathe, all right?.”  
  
_Manners needs a ten or it’s over!_  
  
Jared didn’t hear the words, but he knew they were being said. Knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for since he could remember ever waiting for anything. The things he’d lost and gained to get here...they morphed and jumbled about in his head until all he could see behind tightly closed lids was a flicker of green-gold. Understanding, patience.  
  
_"Never look back, Jay."_  
  
And then, Chad was yelling in his ear, cameras were flashing, and he was a winner.   
  
Just like that.   
  
Jared Padalecki made believers of them all.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_So if you don’t mind my sayin’, I can see you’re out of aces. If you’re gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right._  
  
  
**2007: World Series of Poker: Vegas Invitational.**  
  
  
They called him Texas, or Tex, and Jared played up to it by mixing Stetsons with his black leather, chaps with faded denim. Strung his voice like honey on whole wheat toast while his mouth played constant catch up with his smile.   
  
Sunbrowned and a mile long, he climbed out of the gleaming white stretch and surveyed his domain: for now, Rio Hotel  & Casino. The dry Nevada heat settled itself down deep in his bones, and Jared pulled on the brim of his baseball cap, scuffed his toe along the sidewalk.  
  
“You nervous?”  
  
He glanced over, met Chad’s eyes with a quick grin. “Not as nervous as you, pal.”He clapped his friend on the back, affection softening the blow. “Never as nervous as you.”  
  
“Fuck off,” came Chad’s guffaw as the limo driver walked around to empty their bags out onto the hotel’s driveway. Almost immediately, people were approaching and begging favors, camera bulbs were flashing, and Jared pulled a polite smile and became all modest, humble “thank you ma’am” and “no sir”.  
  
He let Chad direct their luggage to the right room, and stayed behind to sign a few autographs, take some publicity footage for the tour. He was dog-tired and could’ve used a king-sized bed close to three hours ago, but Jared was nothing if not willing and ready to play happy with his fanbase.  
  
At least until Chad dragged his haggard ass back and made some proper excuses.  
  
Several hours and a couple Nytol later, he was--well-enough--rested and looking for some action. Leaving Chad passed out in the adjoining suite, Jared stumbled to the bathroom sink and shoved all ten fingers through the mess on his head. Brushed his teeth, grabbed his wallet, and headed downstairs.  
  
The casino was packed full with vacationers hoping to win big and lucky on the slot machines or at the black jack tables, and Jared paused for a minute. Drank it all in. This was his element; he’d never really felt as at home running cattle on San Antone ranch land as he did around the people loitering and cursing a blue streak as they lost another handful of cash to the always stoic, never-failing House.  
  
He figured that probably said a few things about himself, not many of them pleasant, but he’d had years to come to grips with those harsh truths.   
  
He messed around on some gaming machines, delighted when he lost a hundred bucks on the first spin. The sound of his robust laughter turned several heads, and pretty soon there were more people sitting around the slots and video poker than anywhere else in the room.   
  
There was no surprise at being recognized; he’d never been the type to hunker down behind sunglasses or ball caps, and his face had been plastered across gaming magazines from here to London. _Youth and success_ , Chad would say. And Jared brought an appeal in lazy, lidded eyes and dimpled grins that hadn’t been prevalent in the sport in years.  
  
That much was obvious when he glanced over his shoulder and found a group of young women watching him, half-drunk and celebrating a birthday judging by the rhinestone tiara tilted on top of one’s head.  
  
“Just one more time, Jared!” she called out, hip cocked toward him and big blue eyes dancing with mirth and Crown Royal. Jared flashed his teeth and spun the wheel again. Groaned along with the rest of the crowd when he came up just short of the jackpot.   
  
“S’all I got in me, folks,” he said to the group at large, catching sight of a uniformed casino clerk approaching from the corner of his eye. He twisted in his seat, expression easy and polite when the man smiled down. Sketched a bow that had Jared’s lips twitching before that cool, groomed voice slid through the cigar-scented air.  
  
“Mr Padalecki, we have a game starting in the Gold room if you’d care to buy in.”  
  
A thrill of excitement shot up his spine, made it impossible to resist. He drawled his apologies to his crestfallen admirers, only after ordering another round for the birthday girls and slanting a wink to the pretty blonde with the crown. He could’ve sworn he heard an amused snort come from behind him, but when he glanced back, the casino clerk was staring straight ahead.  
  
“Tell me, Jeeves,” Jared said then, hands in his pockets as he fell back, matching the shorter man stride for stride. “What’s the buy-in breakdown gonna cost me for this little game?”  
  
“A thousand. But of course, you’re welcome to play on House dollars tonight, tournament rules.”  
  
“Nah, I got it covered…” Something hot and shocking curled in his belly when they turned the corner toward the more exclusive back rooms and clubs. There was no mistaking that flash of brown and sun-gold, of broad shoulders and bow legs. But there was no fucking explanation for it, no rhyme or reason. None at all.   
  
“Something the matter, sir?”  
  
Jared blinked, realizing with infuriating embarrassment that he’d all but come to a stand-still, and shot a look at the clerk. “What?” It came out sharper than his normal easy cadence, and made him all the more resentful for it.   
  
The hotel official was well-rehearsed in his occupation and his expression didn’t waver, despite the fact that Jared was close to shaking in his boots. “If you need a moment, I can go on ahead and have the others informed of your arrival.”  
  
Jared nodded, glancing back to the spot and seeing no sign of anyone or anything. _Fuck, m’seeing ghosts in a goddamn comedy._ “Sure, just have a glass of my boy Johnnie waiting for me when I get there,” he said genially, swallowing down a lump of relief and regret.  
  
“Very good, sir.” The man carried on down the hallway and Jared pressed up against the wall. Rubbed his temples and bit down on white knuckles.  
  
He just needed more rest, was all. The flight…he was jet-lagged and exhausted. Fatigue sometimes left him prone to anxiety ever since…well. Ever since.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
The shock of earlier nerves wore off within minutes of entering the Gold room, coming face to face with several of the tour regulars who greeted him with genuine welcome. He shook hands with Ben Grundy, not surprised to see the ambitious Londoner in Vegas, and then his gaze fell on the brunette at the corner of the table.  
  
“Jared Padalecki,” came the sexy, smoky voice, and Jared’s smile slow and sure with it.   
  
“Lauren Graham.” Walking over and bending down to press his mouth to the corner of hers, he flattened his palms on the table and caught a hint of sweet, warm jasmine. Hummed his approval. “Gorgeous as always. Makin’ a killin’ on these poor souls?”  
  
“Until you came along.” But her eyes twinkled back at him as he pulled out the chair nearby, dragged it up next to her. “We were all hoping we’d have another day’s pardon before loading the big guns.” Her eyes trailed down Jared’s loose-limbed form, mouth twitching.  
  
“Sorry to disappoint,” he laughed, nodding at the dealer and leaning back in his chair. He sent Lauren a sly look that was more intimate than any that’d come before it, reached under the table for warm, slender thigh while tossing back the glass of whiskey waiting for him.  
  
Lauren didn’t bat an eyelash, full lips closing around the reed-thin cigarette between her fingers. “And where’s your…entourage?”   
  
Jared was busy imagining that ring of red wrapped around his cock, knowing he’d see it soon enough. “Chad’s asleep in the room, past his bedtime,” he answered, and everyone laughed, the atmosphere light and easy.   
  
Jared had never really been any good at _being_ a minor celebrity, choosing to travel with his longtime best friend and confidant rather than the typical staff and associates. It worked out well-enough, seeing as how Chad put up with his bad habits and he put up with Chad.  
  
They all made easy conversation while the cards were dealt, and throughout the first few hands, Jared made it his mission to make Lauren blush. He’d known the woman since he was a fresh twenty-one, had fucked her more times than that, and had yet to actually see anything faze that pretty, poised face.   
  
He barely paid attention to his cards, gave them a cursory glance-over-- _pocket aces, good goddamn_ \--and grinned. Called all-in and watched the others scramble and cuss. “So, I saw you on the Tahoe circuit…looked pretty good,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice.  
  
The corner of her mouth twitched again. “Did I?”  
  
“Always do.” His hand slid up her thigh, found the high-cut hem of her dress and fingered along the edge. “By the way, I’d go on ahead and fold.”  
  
Her brows drew together, but she didn’t try and push him away. “Call,” she clipped out instead, and Jared chuckled quietly. It turned into full-out belly laughter when the others folded, rightly interpreting Jared’s hand, and the dealer played the flop. By the time the river was dealt, Jared has his hand in her panties and Lauren was choking on an oath as his aces were revealed.  
  
“Told ya,” Jared whispered, thumb circling, and watched her cheeks go flushed and eyes narrow.  
  
The look she sent him could’ve fried an egg in a December blizzard, and Jared’s teeth flashed when she reached down, took hold of his wrist and shoved it away from her. Stood up, murmuring apologies and walking with practiced grace toward the door.  
  
Jared coughed into his hand, stayed for another round, and then left the casino. He found her waiting in the lobby, all long legs and heated eyes, and together they rode the elevator to the fourth floor. Jared took note of the number on the door as she unlocked the suite, and then he was being jerked inside by a belt-loop.  
  
“Oh, yeah, baby,” he groaned out, letting her unzip his pants and reach in, wrap tight around his dick. “S’all yours.”  
  
“After the way you showed me up at the tables? Damn straight it is.”  
  
Jared’s smile was slow and sure. “C’mon now, sugar. You’re not gonna hold that against me?” His back met the back of the door, hard and fast, and Jared choked on a laughing curse. “Or hell, maybe y’are.”  
  
She growled a little, a sexy rumble that was more inviting than threatening, and then tight, wet heat closed around him and further words failed.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
Completely motionless, Jared stood under the streaming showerhead and watched through half-slitted eyes as foaming shampoo washed down the drain. The air was steamy and wet, his fingers curled into the slick tile wall, and his past had him by the balls.  
  
It was just fucking typical. He had a warm, willing, gorgeous woman waiting in a pricey hotel bed. Ready for round two, maybe, and here he was. Thinking on things he’d sworn to lay to rest the minute he’d left San Antonio for Buffalo. Exchanged thick, Texas air and calloused working hands for poker chips and cold beer.  
  
_“Never look back, Jay. No matter what.”_  
  
It’d been one of the last damn decent bits of advice he could remember from that time, and the one he’d always cleaved to. Turned into his own. In a way, it was both painful and ironic.  
  
By the time he dried off and re-entered the main suite, his fingers were pruned and the water had long gone cold. He scrubbed at the hair on his head, hanging thick and damp and already quick to curl around his features, found Lauren spread out on the bed.  
  
“Have yourself a grand ol’ time?” she asked, but there was no real curiosity in the question. It was more perfunctory than anything else, her eyes firmly trained on the television screen mounted to the wall.  
  
Jared smirked, slung the towel around his neck and started to toss off a careless excuse and suggest they meet up again soon. Then he heard a snippet of the story being covered.  
  
“…so it’s indeed all-in for _Smoking Gun_ star, Jensen Ackles. The rumor mill’s been under wraps for weeks that Ackles was leaving the exciting primetime drama for a…different kind of flush. Now reports are pouring in, placing the NBC hunk at the World Series invitational taking place in Las Vegas this week--”  
  
The perky reporter’s face was replaced by a series of snapshots of the man in question, leaving his luxury car and sending the cameras a quick, dispassionate smile before disappearing inside the hotel. The very same hotel Jared was currently standing in, shell-shocked and numb to the bone.  
  
“Can you believe that?” Lauren shook her head, one finger plucking at the rosy curve of her bottom lip. “Been years….wonder what’s bringing him back on the circuit.”  
  
Jensen’s film credits were being discussed at length now, and Jared reached for the remote and turned down the volume after they got into Jensen’s short-lived music career back in the mid-nineties. “Fuckin’ gotta have it all,” he said, not even trying to hide the nasty surprise in his voice. His goddamn heart. “He gave up on poker before he had the chance to conquer it well and good.”  
  
He pulled on the edges of the towel so hard the cotton bit into his shoulders, made him wince. Glance over to find Lauren watching _him_ now instead of the muted news report.  
  
“You sure sound like an expert on our new celebrity icon.”  
  
Jared looked away, jaw hard and insides cold. “Never was that, darlin’. Never claimed to be that.”  
  
She seemed like she had plenty more questions, but then Jared was jerking on his clothes and mumbling excuses that had nothing to do with later trysts and everything to do with a bottle of Jack and a dark, empty room.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
“Man, you look like shit.”  
  
Any other time and Jared would’ve snorted at the near _approval_ coloring his friend’s voice. Any other time, or place, but right now he was ready to agree with Chad and that was never a goddamn good sign.  
  
“Didn’t get much sleep,” he muttered, sliding down the striped lounge chair and spreading his legs in a wide sprawl. The sun was busy baking him nice and crisp, ridding the sallow tint to his skin that’d been left after a long night of insomnia and tequila.  
  
Chad laughed loud, reached back to scratch between his shoulderblades. “I’ll bet. Heard Lauren was around…surprised you came back at all. Where is Her fucking Majesty, anyway?”  
  
“She does her own thing, I do mine.” Jared pressed his lips together and watched the happy couple necking across the Olympic-sized pool. “Sometimes those things happen to overlap--”  
  
“Like your dick and her pussy, I get it.”  
  
Jared coughed to cover up a laugh. It really wasn’t funny, but hell. “Jealous?”  
  
Chad pursed his lips, hands hanging between his knees as he stared out at the water. “Yeah, probably.” A pause, and then, “Think you’ll make a video?”  
  
Jared started to give a lazy reply, but the words curled up and died as the hotel doors opened. Jensen Ackles hovered by the entrance to the pool, fingers wrapped up in a complimentary guest towel and eyes scanning the patio deck behind a pair of black wrap-arounds. He looked a bit lost, an expression that seemed as alien on those goddamn stoic features as a pink bunny suit on Prince Charles.  
  
This close, only fifteen feet away at best, Jared could see the changes the years had done to the face he’d once known as well as his own. Saw the flecks of gray starting to thread through burnished brown, the deep crinkles around eyes and mouth. If anything, it just made Jensen that much better-looking, and Jared’s fingers curled into fists against his thighs.  
  
_Fuck._ He repeated it aloud, soft and full of heat, and on cue, Jensen finally turned his way. There was a moment when Jared considered making a run for it, screwing near-on ten years of moving on, acceptance, denial, but in the end his newfound determination took hold and he stayed still. Watched Jensen approach with cool eyes and sun-heated skin.  
  
“Jared.” The voice was quiet and intimate, had Jared fighting back the urge to flinch inward. Or maybe reach out, see if all those lines and hard planes still fit against his own. “It’s been awhile.”  
  
The sheer asininity of the comment made Jared bark out a laugh; he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and get a better look at Jensen. “Hell yeah, it has. Can’t say as I was hopin’ for a reunion, either.”  
  
Jensen’s expression didn’t change much. Anyone who didn’t know him, who hadn’t seen him at his worst and his best-- _stretched out, hard and wet and wanting_ \--would’ve overlooked the slight tic in his jaw. The press of his mouth. But Jared knew to look, and savored it wholeheartedly. “M’sorry to hear that. I’ve always wondered…”  
  
Jared cocked his head, desperate to hear the rest of those words in spite of himself. Then his gaze followed Jensen’s, found the reason for the interruption. Chad was standing tall, shadowing over Jared and practically bristling like a pit-bull.  
  
“You’ve got a lotta goddamn nerve, Ackles,” Chad said, spitting out the words as Jared came to his feet. Rounded behind his friend, slung an arm around Chad’s shoulders and dropped his chin down to one.   
  
“Easy, big boy,” he murmured, both a warning and a balm to his overprotective best friend. “Easy now.” He caught Jensen’s gaze, still shielded by the sunglasses, and mouthed wet and deliberate against Chad’s cheek.  
  
“Good to see you, too, Chad Michael.” There was no mistaking the sneer in Jensen’s voice, and Jared’s arm tightened at the subtle challenge. He doubted Chad caught anything of it, but the last thing he needed was his hotheaded pal rushing off to defend his goddamn honor or some crazy-ass shit in front of a hotel full of people.  
  
As far as the cameras currently recording their every move went, it would be merely an innocent case of meet-and-greet.  
  
“So, taking some time off to play around, huh?” Jared tried for something like a friendly tone, knew he’d missed it by several miles.  
  
Nevertheless, Jensen smiled. Reached up and slid the glasses off his nose, and then Jared was rooted to the spot by gleaming green-gold. “That what you’re betting on, Padalecki?” Jensen said, so low and purposeful that Jared flushed from his neck up for some godawful, unknown reason.  
  
“Don’t bet on much away from the tables anymore.” He dropped his arm from around Chad and took a few steps to put him nearly in direct contact with Jensen. “Beginner’s luck only runs so thick.”  
  
“Seems like I do remember you having a bit of beginner’s luck.” Jensen’s gaze bored into him, swimming with several stories Jared wanted to block out with his hands to his ears and his feet stomping the ground like a child.  
  
“Funny the way we remember.” Jared smiled back, the gesture not reaching his eyes, and then he bent over. Grabbed his towel and balled it up. “Don’t stay out too long, Jen. Sun’s harder here than LA. Like most things.”  
  
He still felt that heated gaze following him long after he’d put concrete and brick between them.  
  
“The fuck’s _he_ doing here?” came Chad’s excited yelp once they were riding the elevator. “Holy shit, man…thought you were gonna haul off and slug ‘im one. Kinda thought I might, too.”  
  
Jared glanced down, saw Chad cracking his knuckles and felt a wave of undiluted affection. “You’d’ve just whined about bruising your pretty hands later,” he joked, voice hoarse and throat feeling sore. “And he ain’t worth it anyway.”  
  
“What’s he playing at though? Showing up here.”  
  
“Playing to win, I’d guess.” Jared wasn’t prepared to expect anything more. He’d done so plenty of times over and learned the bitter flavor of disappointment like a severe burn that never really went away…just thickened up and scarred over for life.  
  
He was already ripping himself apart on the inside for his slip. _Jen._ For chrissake, like he needed the connotation, the added sense-memory of what’d once been everything. It was _Jensen_ , not fucking _Jen_ \-- not Jensen Ross, either, or JR, or any of the other monikers that spoke of long, hot summers and even hotter moments.   
  
It’d been nothing but _Jensen_ since the day heat turned cold and Jared stood aside and watched everything get in a battered red pickup and drive away, dust kicking up and choking him long after the air resettled.  
  
_“It’s what I wanna do, and you want different. Never look back, Jay. No matter what.”_  
  
The elevator doors dinged, and Jared started. Followed Chad out into the hallway. “Well, at least I’m not crazy,” he managed easy enough, and at his friend’s questioning glance, he followed up with a shrug. “Thought I saw him last night, comin’ out of the casino.”  
  
Chad stared at him for a few seconds, then blew out a breath and shoved the key card into the lock. “Jesus, Jared. The hell are you gonna do?”  
  
“The hell do you think?” Jared returned, brushing past and resisting the urge to throw himself face-down on his bed. “Win this fucking tournament, make it back to San Antonio in time for Megan’s birthday, and get started on next year’s circuit.”  
  
“And Jensen?” Chad called out sarcastically from the door that connected the suites.   
  
“What about him?”  
  
“Well, I mean…the guy taught you pretty much everything you know. Aren’t you a little bit worried?” It was obvious Chad was choosing to ignore the more obvious aspects of their relationship, although Jared honestly wasn’t sure this avenue was any easier to explore.  
  
He picked up a pencil from the nightstand, twirled it between his fingers and stared sightlessly out the window to the strip of bright city-lights down below. “I’m not worried about some snotty, former pretty boy actor on my scene, Chad. Only thing Jensen Ackles ever taught me was know when to walk away and know when to run. Coulda learned that from fuckin’ Kenny Rogers.”  
  
If Chad noticed the way the pencil snapped between his fingers, he decided not to mention it.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
The twelve-day event kicked off two nights later, and Jared relaxed the afternoon of the first big table tournament by taking advantage of the four star hotel golf course. He did enjoy more physical sports, but there was something about using mind over matter that’d always appealed to the more analytical side of himself.   
  
Following through, he held the wedge over his shoulder and watched the ball land on the green, backspin toward the sixth hole.  
  
“Nice swing.”  
  
Jared glanced over, met his companion’s grudging admiration and grinned. “Comin’ from you, that means a lot, Tommy boy.”  
  
Tom Welling rolled his eyes, mouth quirking as he stepped up to prepare for his own shot. The two were friends from Jared’s brief flirtation with university before pursuing the poker circuit full-time, and Tom’s position as a well-reputed golf instructor had taken him to Vegas and kept him happy and healthy. They met up every chance they got, and many more in between.  
  
Jared let out a whistle when Tom managed to sink the hole one under par, and clapped his hands together, voice a mocking parody of the sport’s quiet legacy. “And his talent shines brighter than this sunny, summer day, eclipsed only by his personality and raw charisma.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, just remember that in about two minutes,” came Tom’s terse reply, and for the first time Jared noticed the strain tightening the corners of his friend’s mouth. Tom was staring over Jared’s shoulder now, expression half-eager, half-worried, and Jared’s smile tilted curiously.  
  
“Don’t remember you needing pretty words and compliments, Welling.”   
  
Tom faced him again, something close to apology darkening his features. Almost immediately, Jared knew what’d happened and couldn’t quite wrap his head around the betrayal. “I’m sorry,” Tom was saying, hand resting lightly on Jared’s shoulder as Jared blinked at him through heavy lids. “You’re both my friends, Jared…just wanna spend time with you both when I can.”  
  
Jared tried to keep smiling. He wanted to toss off something witty and light, show he didn’t give a good goddamn that the one person he could go the rest of his life without ever laying eyes on again was about to be thrust upon him for the second time in as many days. In the end he pressed his fist to his eye and muttered, “Christ, Tom. You fucking know…I wouldn’t’ve come out here today--”  
  
“ _I know_ ,” Tom interrupted, soft and meaningful, and then he was walking across the green and shaking Jensen’s hand. “Hey, good to see you, man. Glad you could make it.”  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jensen said, amusement coloring his features as he glanced from Tom to Jared. Held that gaze through sun-tipped lashes that made Jared’s fingers twitch. “Hey, there, Jared. Wasn’t aware we’d be having company…not that I mind.”  
  
Jared smiled mean. “I’ll just bet ya don’t.” Shot Tom a look that promised retribution and turned back to his ball and hole.  
  
Jensen’s quiet laughter reached him through the warm, summer breeze. “Thought you didn’t bet outside the tables anymore,” he said, and Jared’s fingers clenched around a putting iron.  
  
“You know,” Tom said quickly, correctly interpreting the dangerous tension turning Jared rigid, “I think this might be the first time we’ve all been together, yeah?”  
  
Jensen smirked, Jared thought about bloodying that picture-perfect mouth. And then licking it clean.  
  
“Godfucking damn it,” he muttered, and missed his shot completely.  
  
It didn’t get any better from there on out. Not only did he have to _see_ Jensen, he had to hear about all the grand old times he and Tom’d shared in Los Angeles before Tom had gotten the job at Rio. He’d known, of course, that the two were friends…but he hadn’t realized it could physically hurt so much to know that Tom knew more about Jensen at this point than Jared did.  
  
And then it just pissed him off.  
  
“Rosey’s doing well,” Tom was saying awhile later, leaning against a seven iron as Jensen lined up for the ninth hole. “Just got himself a deal with some local comedy club in Detroit…he’ll have them eating out of the palm of his hand in a month, tops.”  
  
“So long as it’s kosher,” Jensen cracked, hips swaying as he followed through on his shot, and Tom laughed whole-heartedly.  
  
Jared watched the ball sail through the air, land close to the flag. He didn’t want to think about the way Jensen’s face lit up with pleasure or how his first inclination was to congratulate the guy on a job well done.  
  
“You’ve been practicing,” Tom stated unnecessarily. “You couldn’t make that shot last time.”  
  
“Yeah, well.” Jensen scratched the back of his head, shot a quick look at Jared that Jared pretended to ignore. “Not much else to do between filming these days, you know? Club scene ain’t what it used to be.”  
  
“Nothing ever is after thirty,” Tom said on an evil cackle, and Jared felt young and stupid and bereft as they laughed together.  
  
Then, “Jared’s still got a few years left in him, anyway.” Jensen’s voice held silky appreciation, and Jared looked over and met his gaze straight-on for the first time all afternoon. “Meant to tell you yesterday, Jay…you’re looking good.”  
  
As if to punctuate the point, his eyes roamed Jared from head to toe and then resettled lazily on Jared’s face. Jared let him look, then shook his head and drawled out, “You, too, Jensen. But aw hell, you don’t need me to tell you. Got People magazine and the teen rags to do it for me.”  
  
Jensen’s brows rose straight up, hands sliding deep in the pockets of his slacks. “Not seeing much face-time on the teen rags lately,” he admitted, lips curved and pink and fucking sinful.  
  
“That why you rejoined the tour?” Jared’s voice was a razor’s edge. He heard Tom clear his throat from somewhere behind him, but all he could see was Jensen and a deep, burning red across his vision. “Not cuttin’ it anymore in the Hills, had to come out and see what else the Mighty Ackles could accomplish?”  
  
If Jensen was nonplussed, annoyed, that Jared had gone for the nickname Hollywood had given him, he didn’t let it show. “Been thinking on it for awhile.” His heels rocked forward just a bit, hips thrusting. “Pretty much done with all that, ready to concentrate on my first love.”  
  
Jared felt a bit like someone’d taken his driving wedge and clubbed him in the stomach with it. He immediately, desperately, wished Tom away so he could’ve shouted Jensen’s ears hoarse and blackened those smiling eyes. And Jensen was waiting for a reaction, too.  
  
“I…” Jared swallowed, mortified to feel something hot and wet pressing at the backs of his eyelids. When it came, his voice was an unsteady husk that wiped the flash of teeth from Jensen’s features. “I gotta go. Been good seeing you, Tom. I’ll give you a call later on this week.”  
  
“Jared,” someone said, but he wasn’t sure who. Just reached for his caddy and threw off a wave before signaling one of the cart drivers roaming the area and hopping on board.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,  
Know when to walk away and know when to run._  
  
  
**2007: World Series of Poker: Main Event, Day 1.**  
  
  
Poker was a difficult enough game to master under the best of conditions. Fitting close to three thousand people into one or two casino club rooms, ten to a table, made for adapting to the worst of it.  
  
Headsets, sunglasses, and ball caps decorated the players sprawled and perched behind felt-top card tables…all meant to distract or bring added focus to and from those two cards clutched tight between sweaty fingers. It was a tactic made popular in the recent decades, and it seemed like just about everyone was subscribing to the methods as casinos got bigger and the noise levels louder.  
  
Jared used none of it. He had no need to hide behind colored lenses, pulled-low brims. He thrived under pressure, enjoyed nothing more than staring a fellow player dead-down, bluffing with his eyes and soul. When he needed silence, he got it, but he also blossomed without it. The unorthodox behavior only seemed to lend extra creedance to the media’s argument that he was the best, the real deal, the one who’d revolutionize the sport and bring it to all-new heights.  
  
Some whispered it was prophetic, seeing as how the tournament itself originated with a young San Antonian back in the late sixties. Jared laughed off the comments and questions; he was just there to play a game and make some money along with it. But anyone who looked into those brown-green eyes could see there was more to it than that, always had been: Jared Padalecki just loved the game of poker.  
  
It was never more obvious than at the start of an event, that familiar rush of the unknown, framed by an all-new cast of characters, ever changing, an intimacy born of will and self-control. Jared might not recognize all the players at his table, but by the end of the evening they’d all be acquainted in a way like no other.  
  
_Twenty thousand chips starts us off here tonight. One hundred-twenty minutes of glory. Everyone’s eyes on the twelve million dollars first prize._  
  
“Holy shit, Ma, you’re not gonna believe who’s sitting here next to me,” Jared heard from somewhere behind him, and glanced back to find a young kid he didn’t know staring at Jensen with wide eyes and talking into a cell phone. “Bit far from Rodeo Drive, eh, Hollywood?”  
  
He saw Jensen’s lips press together, knew he was wondering if he’d be stuck with the nickname from here on out. Jared understood the worry…he’d lucked out himself, but he’d seen plenty a player christened “One-Hit” or “Muck-Up” whether through unfortunate events or not, and it was never fun to be on the receiving end of an unwanted moniker. Especially once the media caught wind of it.  
  
And Jared really, _really_ wasn’t a very nice person after all.   
  
“Lookit all them sexy freckles…” He leaned back in his chair so he could stretch and see Jensen’s irritation glaring back at him. “Sexy, mexy freckles.” Jensen’s eyes went wide, and Jared bared his teeth into something resembling a grin. _Hell yeah, sweetcheeks…I’m goin’ there._ “Man’s got ‘him some…smeckles.”  
  
A couple of people laughed, hooted, and it was agreed on as quick as that. Jared smirked and caught Jensen’s gaze again, expected to see anger or maybe even boredom there. Instead, Jensen’s eyes darkened in blatant familiarity, made Jared’s lips go flat with memories of childish antics and epithets. Giving out his personal stupid nickname for Jensen was supposed to embarrass the guy, not make Jared remember how goddamn good it once had been.  
  
He turned away from Jensen’s table without another word, made polite conversation with the group at his own before the first game was called and the dealer snapped the deck.  
  
_Blinds are twenty-five and fifty. Padalecki with jack-ten, offsuit._  
  
Jared stroked his lip, raised the pot to one-fifty. “How y’all feelin’ today?” he asked, grinning at the players closest to him, and many couldn’t help beaming back.  
  
“I don’t care how good-looking you are,” Sophia Bush said while shuffling her hand, “I’m gonna knock you back on your ass tonight, Padalecki.” She punctuated the promise with a blown kiss, and Jared pretended to catch it. Clasped it to his chest and dared her with his eyes to go for it.  
  
_Bush has ace-queen, offsuit. She’ll make the call._  
  
Jared grinned when the other eight players folded without a blink, several cursing low and shoving hands up under ball caps and through their hair. He and Sophia smirked at one another, and then Jared felt a brief burn between his shoulder blades.  
  
_The other players of this ten-handed featured table will give it up, so it’ll be Padalecki and Bush to the flop._  
  
The dealer flipped the three community cards-- _king, eight, ace_ \--and Jared saw just a flash of triumph flint across Sophia’s eyes. He swallowed his own disappointment, frustration, and kept the ever-present smirk tilting his lips. Straight fucking draw.  
  
Nevertheless, he was the first to act. Tossed another hundred-fifty chips into the center of the table and heard Sophia make a quick call.  
  
_Tex just on a draw was hoping to take the pot down right there._  
  
The turn card was a three, and Jared felt the pinch. Resisted the unnatural urge to reach up and adjust his collar, attributed it to fucking Jensen Ross Ackles looming somewhere behind him, snippets of his voice occasionally rising up and squeezing tight around Jared’s ribs. He needed a long-shot to come home, get outta this, but he bit back uncertainty and tossed another three-fifty into the pot.  
  
_Jared postures at it once again…and Bush will call._  
  
One more card to come, and Jared needed some help. His finger stroked the diamond jack while the seconds ticked by. When the dealer flipped the river card, Jared saw the face of the lovely queen of hearts staring back up at him and barely restrained a delighted laugh.  
  
_And that’s Broadway for Jared! Bush made aces-up. Two-thousand more, after the river, to Sophia Bush._  
  
Jared bet again, too high, and watched a flush of color rise up Sophia’s neck. He could practically see her trying to figure out if he was bluffing or just plain crazy, and this time the laughter spilled out, light and easy.   
  
Sophia’s voice was crisp and unemotional. “Call.”  
  
_Bush bites! And with only aces-up, she’s gonna lose to Padalecki’s straight._  
  
The other players let out a long, good-natured groan when Jared showed his cards, and Sophia cussed so loud it made several other tables look up. Jared leaned back again, rocked side to side in his chair and blew her the kiss he’d been saving from the start of the hand. “Well now, turns out I’m feelin’ just fine.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
It wasn’t that Jared had _planned_ on stalking Jensen during the first ninety minute break. Still, when he was immediately pulled aside by an ESPN reporter eager to discuss his lucky winning hand, he couldn’t help but resent that now he _couldn’t._   
  
Jensen had won his table, that much was obvious by the way everyone around him was offering their congratulations. Even several of the more skeptic pros were loitering close-by, clapping him on the back and waving over news reporters to get a closer look at the poker scene’s new resident beefcake.   
  
_Fucking hell._  
  
“Ex-excuse me?” the curvy blonde interviewing him laughed a little, and Jared flashed her a winning smile and played off the slip with trained charm. A few minutes later, and he was on his way to dinner. Mission accomplished.  
  
The tournament players had their choice of any of the six five-star restaurants available on the hotel grounds, and Jared was feeling like sinking into a thick filet with mushrooms and honey-garlic. He caught sight of Lauren almost immediately upon entering the steakhouse, saw her beckon from behind a glass of wine. Fingers hooking into his belt-loops, Jared strolled over while keeping his eyes on the lacy hem of Lauren’s neckline.   
  
“I’m feelin’ a bit underdressed here, sugar,” he joked, lip caught between his teeth as he cocked a hip against the table and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “How’d you wind up doin’--”  
  
Lauren’s gaze followed his, lighting up a bit when it fell on Jensen. “I’ve been getting to know our new arrival,” she said, bringing the crystal flute to her lips. “Come sit down, Jared. Plenty of room.”  
  
Jared thought about arguing, punching Jensen in his goddamn smirking face, maybe even throwing a hissy fit like his baby sister in her prime. Instead he just shot Jensen a warning look and slid into the booth beside Lauren. He dropped an arm around her shoulders, was pleased when she cozied up close and Jensen’s easy mask slipped.  
  
“We’re all surprised to see you back on tour, Jensen,” Lauren said, and Jared ordered a beer from a nearby waitress. “You made it pretty clear when you left…everyone thought you’d abandoned the sport for good.”  
  
“For bright lights and triple figures?” Jensen laughed, eyes still on Jared. “Guess you could say I’ve…been there, done that. Always meant to have poker to come back to.”  
  
“Interesting.” Lauren sipped again, intelligent eyes drifting back and forth across the table. “And how long have you two known one another?”  
  
Jared’s gaze snapped up from where he’d been gaze-locked and narrow-eyed on Jensen. “What?”  
  
“I think it’s a little obvious there’s some history in this room that doesn’t involve Chef Charlamagne’s lemon meringue,” she answered, tongue swiping her lips as she stood up. She briefly touched Jared’s shoulder before making her excuses, and Jared had all of a minute to be tongue-tied and stupidly embarrassed before he heard Jensen’s low, sheepish chuckle.  
  
His gaze returned to the man sitting across the table, something hot and wicked curling tight in his belly. It was out before he could think better of it, both hands flat against the table as he leaned Jensen’s way. “How’s Christian doing these days?”  
  
Jensen didn’t bother acting surprised by the change in topic, or the sudden flare of temper. Both were easily explainable, and more than long-denied. “Last I heard, he was shacked up with some real pretty gal in Nashville. Singer, petite and blonde, just Chris’s type.”  
  
Honest-to-God affection sweetened Jensen’s voice, and Jared’s insides roiled with bitter anger, betrayal. “Just that easy, huh. Let him go, too? Gettin’ to be a right hobby with you, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes went hard and shuttered as he lifted his glass of scotch to his lips. “Wasn’t like that, Jared. Never was.”  
  
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Jared laughed without an ounce of humor. “You fucking _left_ …” He bit down on his lip so hard, bitter copper flooded his tongue. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Careful.“You chose him.” _Over me._  
  
“Goddamn it, I chose acting.” Jensen leaned forward, eyes heavy with some emotion Jared had long since stopped holding belief for. “Had nothin’ to do with Chris, and it was the biggest fucking mistake of--”  
  
“Don’t say that to me.” Jared shook his head, sat back and pressed his lips tight. “Look at you, Jen. Fucking super-star, don’t tell me it was a mistake. You got what you wanted, when you wanted it.”  
  
“And so did you.” There was admiration, understanding, in Jensen’s expression now, burning hot and steady. “Ain’t that somethin’?”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
He managed to avoid Jensen the rest of the night, and the next few nights after. By the sixth tournament day, the number of remaining players had decreased dramatically and everyone was tabled to the Gold room. Jared had no problem staying on top of the events, but Jensen was proving to be a worthy competitor, which shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it was.  
  
People remarked on their similar styles, their tendencies and flaws. Many were saying they were hoping it’d come down to an Ackles vs. Padalecki final hand, and Jared pretended he couldn’t hear. Then secretly wondered what would happen if it did.  
  
Truth be told, he owed everything to Jensen, whether he liked it or not. After the death of Jensen’s parents, the young boy’d been shipped off from Dallas to an old friend of the family in San Antonio. He’d wound up on Jared’s grandfather’s ranch, and Jared’s summers after had been spent idolizing the older boy. Wanting to be everything like him, and then later on, just wanting.  
  
It’d been Jensen who’d taught him to play hold-em, Omaha, stud, and it’d been Jensen who’d encouraged that interest until it took root and became ambition.   
  
Looking back now, Jared could tell that it hadn’t been the same for Jen. He’d enjoyed the game, sure enough, but merely as a past-time. Something to while away the hot, humid Texas hours, and not the soul-deep bond Jared learned to feel with a deck of cards and his wits. He’d felt that with Jensen once, too, but then he’d been gone.  
  
Now he was back. And those roots were still there, knotted and twisted over time, but wedged even deeper and harder to pull up.   
  
He was buzzing good and hard on beer and triumph as he made way toward the elevator, pressed the button, and got in as the doors slid open. Back up against the wall and pleased smile in place, Jared looked up when a shadow fell across the threshold.  
  
That smile faded into a smirk, liquor loosening his resolve to careless mischief. “Well, howdy there. Step on into my office,” he offered with a magnanimous wave when Jensen hesitated, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
“Goin’ somewhere?” Jensen asked quietly, gaze burning down deep, and Jared leaned his hip against the wall, cocked his body toward Jensen’s.  
  
“Bed.” He made that one word last a whole ten seconds, and Jensen’s expression went amused and hot all at once. They’d been flirting all night, antagonistic and hostile, maybe, but with an edge of acceptance once Jared’d come to the rather disturbing realization that this was gonna happen whether he liked it or not. It was Jensen, and he was Jared, and some things just never fucking changed.  
  
“Where’s your little blond bodyguard?” came Jensen’s question, one finger working up beneath his collar while he craned his neck around to stretch out the kinks. Watched Jared like a hawk after prey.  
  
“Probably off consoling Jennifer Tilly, maybe getting reamed out by her boyfriend. All in a day’s work for the Chaddinator,” Jared said, genuine fondness softening the sharp words. He moved in closer, eyes steady on a strip of golden skin as Jensen worked his collar open more. “So I’m alone, for all intents and purposes.”  
  
Funny how all thoughts of seeking Lauren out had disappeared from his mind the moment he’d laid eyes on Jensen; even with Lauren’s perfume still clinging to his skin, warm promises still ringing in his ears, here he was…looking to score a different goal entirely.  
  
And Jensen knew what was going on, hell yeah. They were both reveling in the moment, letting it linger and crackle while the elevator slowly climbed between floors. Then, Jensen said softly, “Something about that game, you know?” He caught Jared’s eyes, lips only just lifted into a smile. “I forget how it makes you, ah…”  
  
“You fucking get off on it.” Jared laughed, understanding all too well the thrill and emotional hard-on that came with beating out grown men with nothing but your goddamn gumption and determination. And luck, oh yeah, the lady had everything to do with it, too. “World’s greatest high, man.”  
  
Jensen opened his mouth to reply, and the doors slid wide on a musical _ding_. They’d reached Jared’s floor first, and Jensen was watching him now with something close to expectation, laced with a brimming uncertainty that chased away any doubts still swirling around in the fog of Jared’s mind.  
  
“You wanna do this?” he said without preamble, closing in and dropping both hands on either side of Jensen’s head. Stared down with hot eyes and found answering heat waiting for him. “We do it my way. _My_ room, _my_ bed…my dick in your pretty little ass, Ackles.” He waited a beat while Jensen’s eyes grew big, then narrowed into come-hither slits. “You callin’ or foldin’?”  
  
They’d never done it this way, and it was obvious in the momentary pause that stole Jensen’s breath. Hell, Jared was freaking out a little now, too, with the words just out there… _hovering_. He was drunk, sure, but this was shit he’d thought about, fantasized about, for far longer than he ever should’ve. All it’d take would be Jensen saying no, or worse, laughing in his goddamn face and he’d just have to--  
  
And then Jensen’s mouth pressed against his cheek. Nothing sweet or romantic about it, just a dirty little reminder that he was there and Jared was overthinking things…as usual. “I’m in,” he murmured, and Jared shivered a little as warm breath coasted across his skin. Jensen’s hand found his ass, squeezed and then Jared was being shoved out the doors. “And mark my words, Padalecki…you’ll be the one foldin’ before s’all said and done.”  
  
“I never fold,” was Jared’s dumb response, because he couldn’t get the fucking _door open_ with Jensen pressed up behind him. Smelling like woods and clean sweat and everything nasty and dirty and fucking _perfect_ in Jared’s goddamn life. His mouth worked along Jared’s jaw, fingers kneading Jared’s hips while the key card slipped again and again through the lock.  
  
_Finally_ , they were inside, and Jared had Jensen flush up against the wall. Back to his chest, he worked a hand down linen slacks and grunted satisfaction when he found the hard line of Jensen’s dick waiting. “For me?” he asked, a grin in his voice, and squeezed…felt Jensen shudder and curse under his breath.  
  
Jensen muttered something like “always”, but Jared was drunk and probably just imagining things. He gripped Jensen tighter, stroked up and down, and sank his free hand into Jensen’s hair. “Gimme your mouth,” he said, voice tight as he pulled Jensen’s head back, eyes dark and unfocused. “Wanna taste that filthy, slutty mouth of yours.”  
  
A glimmer of victory shot through Jensen’s gaze, gone quick as a flash. “Foldin’ so soon?” he got out before Jared covered his mouth with his own. They both froze at that first meeting of lips in years; Jared could hear himself panting, breath harsh and heavy in the quiet room. Jensen wasn’t much better, gentle humps of his hips against Jared’s palm as he licked at Jared’s mouth. “C’mon, do it then,” he said, soft at first, then louder. “You wanna fuck me? Show me what a big boy you’ve grown up to be.”  
  
As far as fighting words went, they fucking well worked. Jared snapped to, growled low and jacked Jensen hard once, twice. Then he was reaching in his pocket for wallet and condom, ripping foil with his teeth while tugging Jensen’s pants down his hips. He barely bothered with his own, just freed his dick and bent Jensen over the complimentary desk. Slicked himself and gave Jensen a moment’s warning before sinking his teeth into muscled shoulder and pressing forward.  
  
He’d never felt anything so hot, so tight. Breathless and horny, Jared held onto Jensen’s hip with one hand and used the other to press at the small of his back. Heard Jensen groaning down deep in his chest, trembling underneath him as he fucked in deeper. “You make me stop then,” he said, knowing full well Jensen could and would. If he wanted to.  
  
Instead, Jensen stayed passive and spread-out…giving little encouraging grunts and moans whenever Jared’s thrusts hit just right. “Oh god, Jay, you…fuck…wanna…” He never got a complete thought out, not with Jared stretching him wide around his dick, and Jared couldn’t blame him. Hell, he could barely see straight himself…blinded by lust and the sight of rosy-pink closing on and around him again and again.  
  
“Jesus,” he muttered. Then again, dropping his head to Jensen’s shoulder on a helpless whimper. “You feel…oh god.”  
  
It was quick, and sloppy, and hard. He fucked Jensen over that desk until the top was slicked with come and sweat, until Jensen was crying his name in that husky-deep voice that’d made millions of women wet their panties. That’d made Jared uncomfortably aroused from the moment he’d known what it meant to be so.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** When the Dealin’s Done.  
**Pairing:** Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, Lauren Graham, Chad Michael Murray  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 | alternate universe, graphic m/m slash, minor het, real person fiction, drama, romance. Harlequin, baby!  
**Word Count:** 17,000  
**Summary:** Life is all about sizzle for rising poker star Jared Padalecki. He's always on the prowl for the next big win--or so he tells the press when they ask when he’ll give up the scene. Jensen Ackles, however, might prove the exception to his rule….  
Several years ago a boy with some intriguing rough edges dumped Jared and left town, maturing into a huge success. Now Jensen is back. And Jared’s friends predict if Jensen's as talented at bad behavior as he is at everything else, Jared will enjoy the fling of a lifetime!  
**Notes:** I’ve messed with Jared and Jensen’s ages a bit here. Jensen’s still the sexy older half, but birth years are off as is the exact difference in age.   
Written for [ ](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_harlequin/profile)[**spn_harlequin**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_harlequin/). More notes, including original prompt, at the end of the fic.  
  
  
  
  
  
 

**When the Dealin’s Done: Part 2.  
by keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
  
  
_You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table.  
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done._  
  
  
**2007: World Series of Poker: Main Event, Day 7.**  
  
  
“Looks like we got a world champion at our table!”  
  
Jared grinned just slightly, lifting up two fingers for a beer as the waitresses trolled the room. His head was pounding and not even an entire day’s sleep had helped get rid of the pain or helped him figure out just what the hell he was thinking.  
  
Fucking Jensen fucking Ackles. Jesus fucking Christ.  
  
He wasn’t sure if he was offended or relieved that he’d woken up alone that morning, but by lunchtime and with no further sign of Jensen, he’d chosen to ignore any lingering hurt and instead focused on being spared that awkward waking moment. And any possible confrontation.  
  
As if by some grand cosmic joke, random seating later found him at the Kripkeeper’s table. Eric Kripke was well-known in the sport for being a damn good card player, but prone to tilt at any given time. It was a rare person who matched against him and came away from the experience without getting a taste of maniac temper and wild accusations. So far, Jared’d been lucky _not_ to find his way in Kripke’s path. Luck always ran out, and apparently at the worst possible time.  
  
“You all right?” Chad asked for the fourteenth time in as many minutes, hovering over Jared’s shoulder like a fitful mother hen, and Jared reached back. Slapped his friend in the head and shrugged Chad’s hand off his neck.  
  
“I’m fine. Grab me a beer, will ya?” He regretted the snappish tone as soon as the words left his mouth, but Chad was already backing away with hands raised high and, _goddamn_ , where the hell _was_ the damn waitress with his drink?  
  
“Fuck,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck and ignoring the questioning looks from around the table. “We ready yet, or what?”  
  
“Thought I was the asshole,” Eric said easy enough, and a few people laughed. Others were watching Jared with a mixture of wariness and curiosity; it wasn’t often that poker’s golden boy shed his shiny attitude.  
  
His beer arrived with the dealer, and Jared grabbed up his cards and swigged Sam Adams before taking a look.   
  
Within minutes of action, Sera Gamble and Ben Edlund folded. Sera’s face scrunched in disgust, both hands shoved through her wild, curly hair, and any other time Jared would’ve spared a kind word or an encouraging wink.  
  
_Chip leader Jared Padalecki with the jack-ten, offsuit. Jared’s the only naked player at this table…no hat, no shades. It’s all about headgear and eyegear these days._  
  
Jared didn’t bother waiting, playing off the bluff. Not yet. Just slapped down some chips and blurted out, “Forty.”  
  
_He’s gonna raise it up to forty thousand. When you only double the big blind as he has, you’re inviting the big blind to come in…it’s like half-price admission to the show. And Eric Kripke **is** the big blind._  
  
Kripke already had that manic gleam in his eye, lips pursed together as the light bounced off the thinning hair on his head. “Call,” he said with shrewd intention, and Jared sat back and waited on the flop.  
  
_With a queen-ten, Kripke’ll make the call. Only twenty thousand more. Flop goes to a four, ace, queen…a pair of queens for Eric! He gets a tighter grip on this hand, but now Padalecki’s got a gutshot straight draw._  
  
A loud cheer went up from the other end of the room; Jared spun around, glaring and irritated by the distraction, and saw Jensen grinning wide and raking in a big pile of chips. When he turned back, Eric was looking ready to up the ante and Jared rubbed between his brows.  
  
_See what happens? When you let people in with a discount coupon? They take advantage of it and now you gotta bet._  
  
“Sixty,” Kripke called out, and Jared heard Jensen laughing. The sound went straight through his gut, made him think of that voice gone shot and husky as Jared fucked him up and over the--  
  
“Hell, let’s make it one-eighty,” he said a bit impatiently, desperate, and Ben made a choking sound before covering it up with a cough.  
  
_Padalecki’s gonna triple Kripke’s call now, to one hundred-eighty thousand! Kripke’s a little perplexed. Padalecki quite bold there, and now Eric’s swallowing hard with his pair of queens._  
  
This was it. The moment it always came down to, player versus player, and Jared _always_ came out on top. He held Kripke’s assessing gaze, waiting for the older man to flip out, accuse him of god only knew what to keep the hand going…give him a good chance to stall. Instead, Eric looked back down at his hand, the pot, and then at Jared.  
  
Looking like he was chewing on broken glass, he hesitated just long enough for Jared to relax. There was no doubt where this was going.  
  
“I think I’m laying down the best hand here,” Eric said, sounding pretty pissed off about it.  
  
_Ah, Kripke’s talking about folding…and he does indeed! Jared Padalecki muscles him out! This is Padalecki’s forte, the bluff, and once again it gets him outta any possible hot water._  
  
“No worries, no worries.” Jared blew out a breath, reached to the center of the table and dragged the chips toward him. “You weren’t laying the best hand down.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
Saturday was a break, so Jared made plans to show Chad around the city…take him to one of the big shows at the hotel and see a magician pull a fresh rose out of his ass. Chad was into that kinda crap, and Jared was into making it up to his best friend after his shitty behavior the past few days.  
  
He was in a better mood than he’d been since the tournament had begun, having had little to no interaction with Jensen since the drunken incident in his hotel suite. Whenever they did cross one another’s paths, Jensen was quick to make an excuse. Look away. It didn’t match up to what Jared remembered of the confident, forward boy he’d fallen for years back. Or even the swaggering movie star that’d shown up earlier that week.   
  
The only time Jensen seemed inclined to acknowledge his presence was during the tournament himself, where he’d taken to finishing up early and watching the remainder of Jared’s play from the shadows of the room. Jared’d caught him several times, lurking in the background, those intense eyes trained and focused on nothing but him. It never failed to send a shiver down his spine, fill him with confusion and irritation, especially when Jensen always disappeared before Jared could find him afterward. Demand what the hell was going on.  
  
The last place he expected Jensen to turn up was the goddamn magic show, but when Jared and Chad walked into the room that night, there was no missing the classy figure cut in a suit and tie. Nor the fact that he was cozied up to an incredible looking blonde who seemed more mystified by Jensen’s lips than the tricks happening onstage.  
  
The smug asshole was on a motherfucking date, and Jared was an idiot. All over again.  
  
“Jesus,” Chad muttered from behind him, and Jared felt a bit better knowing that at least one person understood his pain. Then, “That’s fucking Joanna Krupa, dude. Think he’ll introduce me? Hell, I did almost beat his ass the other day…shit fucking damn.”  
  
Jared turned around slowly, found Chad attempting to slick back his hair as he eyed Jensen’s date with a glint in his eye that was more ridiculous than sexy. Jared just shook his head and made his way through the crowd, looking for their table.  
  
He was halfway through a glass of water when Chad showed up, a little pink in the cheeks and tugging at his collar.  
  
“It’s a no-go, Tex. Looked like he’d swallowed a warm turd when I showed my face…and his girl’s a snob. Not worth the hassle, man.”  
  
“Sit down and shut _up_ ,” Jared managed after a moment of disbelief. Apparently realizing how close he was to being bodily thrown across the room, Chad pulled out his chair and sank into it.  
  
“Not like I wanna date _Jensen_ , you cockblocking bastard,” he heard Chad muttering, but he was no longer paying any attention. Because now Jensen was staring right at him, and there was no sign of the voluptuous supermodel. Jared gazed back for all of a minute, then glanced away and tried to figure out when the hell he’d turned into a thirteen year old girl.  
  
Jensen didn’t make his move until Chad headed for the bathroom after the first act. Jared chugged down free pink champagne, bubbles going up his nose when he looked up to find Jensen standing there, hands in his pockets and expression caught between amusement and indecision.  
  
“Oh,” Jared said a little drunkenly. “It’s you.”  
  
Jensen cleared his throat, obviously pretending not to notice the sneer pasted across Jared’s face. “Gotta minute?”  
  
“Down to a minute, are we?” Jared snickered, stared down into his glass. “Always thought that was a middle-aged myth…and you’re not really gettin’ my motor runnin’ to be honest.”  
  
“Jared.” Jensen’s voice took on a note of pleading. “Keep your goddamn voice down.”  
  
At that, Jared’s head snapped up and around. Sure, a few people were watching them, but it hardly warranted Jensen’s pained expression. “Get a grip! S’not like I’m sucking your cock right fucking here or somethin’.” He waited a beat, sank back with his arms crossed. “Not like I would, either.”  
  
Jensen took a breath. “Okay, you’re pissed. I _get_ that, but we really need to talk.”  
  
“See, I don’t think we do.” Jared came to his feet then, immeasurably pleased when he unfolded his body and loomed over Jensen. Shaking a finger right in Jensen’s face, he lowered his voice and said, “We don’t do so well with that, Jenny. Not ‘nymore. Jus’ get on back to your girlfriend and lemme--”  
  
“Oh for chrissake.” Now Jensen sounded disgusted, and he took hold of Jared’s arm and jerked him through the room, apparently not caring if people were talking or not. Jared came along only because he kind of didn’t trust his feet on his own, and because Jensen smelled really good.  
  
They found a deserted hallway and Jared leaned back against the wall, thumbs hooked in his pockets and eyes on Jensen’s flushed features. There was the distant sound of clapping as the show picked up with the next act, and the lights dimmed down low with it.  
  
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jensen started, picking their conversation back up where they’d left off.  
  
“I don’t give a damn if she is--”  
  
“Would you _shut the fuck up?_ ” It was as close to a yell as Jared had heard from Jensen in his life. In fact, Jensen looked close to strangling something, or someone, and Jared didn’t really like the odds. “I’m thirty-three years old, I do not need this bullshit.”  
  
“Yeah, catch ya later, minute-man.” Jared moved to brush past, but Jensen pulled him up short. With surprising force, considering Jared had a good thirty pounds or so on him.  
  
“Just…just tell me something, Jared. You ready to fold yet?” It came out glossed with frustration and agitation, and Jared blinked. Couldn’t figure out what the hell Jensen was talking about.  
  
He got in Jensen’s face, nose-to-nose. “I don’t _fold._ ”  
  
This time, Jensen let him go, but Jared didn’t bother to delude himself that the conversation was anywhere near over.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
He found himself outside Lauren’s door sometime after the show, nervous tension ricocheting through his body until he could barely stand still as he pounded against the wood grain again.  
  
It wasn’t _that_ late in the evening, and he knew Lauren had been beaten out the day before by a pro from Vancouver. She’d be packing up and getting ready to head back to Virginia until the next circuit started up.  
  
The door came open a minute later, and Lauren smiled at him. “Hi there,” she said, hair long and curling around a face wiped clean. Jared stared at her a minute, then reached out. Held her face and brought their mouths together.  
  
Her husky laughter vibrated against his lips, and she let him kiss her. Reached out, squeezed his shoulders and pulled him inside. “Come to see me off?” she joked once they were spread out on the bed, Jared’s hand high on the inside of her thigh and his mouth working along her breast.  
  
“I don’t know what’m doing here,” he said, voice a little broken. “I just…”  
  
He didn’t wanna talk. Didn’t wanna think about the goddamn _understanding_ coming through as patronizing in her expression. He hated that he looked into her bright blue eyes and wanted to see soft green. It made his breath come a little faster, fingers working quick as he covered himself, hands hooking up under her legs.  
  
She called out his name on a low, satisfied purr when he drove inside her. He answered with a helpless groan, hips working, but he wasn’t thinking about her face when he came long minutes later.  
  
Afterward, it was awkward like it’d never been with Lauren. Jared sat on the corner of her bed, flushed and tousled and tugging his pants up his hips as she pulled on a robe and lit up a cigarette. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, but could feel a hint of the knowing smirk he knew was stretched across her face.  
  
When it came though, her voice held a note of wistful regret. “I’ll miss you, Jared.” She took a long drag, and Jared finally stood up. Met her eyes and wondered why he couldn’t have fallen for someone like her instead.  
  
“I’ll see you again in a few months.”  
  
She raised a brow, turning toward the window. “Hmm.”  
  
Jared didn’t know what else to say. Just walked over, dropped a kiss to her shoulder and wrapped his arms around tight around her middle. “See ya, gorgeous,” he whispered, and felt a pang somewhere in his chest when she smiled back and waved him off.  
  
The suite was dark when he entered it, no sign of Chad in either of the rooms. Jared kicked off his shoes, dropped into a chair near the door with his head against the wall. Eyes closed, limbs sore and aching, he wiped a hand down his face and wished he hadn’t had that last glass of champagne.  
  
There was the sound of movement from the bedroom, and Jared flinched. “Chad?” he called out, slowly lifting his head on a long sigh. “Hey, man…sorry I bailed. How’d it go with that redhead…”  
  
But it wasn’t Chad staring down at him when he opened his eyes. Jared swallowed against instinctive excitement, standing up with poorly concealed agitation as Jensen stepped forward. “How’d you get in here?” he asked in a low voice, fingers flexing at his sides.  
  
“Chad got lucky with Red, left his key behind. I took it.” There was no shame, no guilt in Jensen’s voice at the confession. He was in Jared’s personal space now, circling like a shark in water.  
  
Jared stared back, something thick and warm pulsing through his veins. He blinked when his back came up against the wall, realizing he’d been steadily backing away. “You took it,” he parroted, feeling slow and dumb.  
  
Jensen’s thumb pressed hard to Jared’s bottom lip, came back streaked with deep rose red. Neither one spoke; Jensen’s throat worked as he smudged the lipstick stain between two fingers, eyes hot and measured on Jared.  
  
His voice was quiet, gritty. “You’re really tryin’ my patience, boy.”  
  
Just that quick, just that _easy_ , and Jared was shot years back. Apology a thick and bitter flavor on his tongue, he swallowed it down and managed a brief laugh instead. Held Jensen’s gaze, pointedly straightening his shoulders and coming to full height. “Maybe I’ll give ya a call later,” he said, breezy and flip, and watched with devilish satisfaction as the fires gleamed behind green-gold.   
  
Neither one of them moved, or maybe they both moved together. Jensen’s hand fisted in the front of Jared’s shirt, near-on dragging his mouth down, and then they were kissing. Nothing soft and warm about it; Jared _ate_ at Jensen’s mouth, reached up and curled his fingers in the short tufts of Jensen’s hair. The sound of Jensen’s growl ripped through him like a gunshot, and he pulled that pretty face back and sank his teeth into Jensen’s throat.  
  
“Goddamn. Yeah, c’mon.” Jensen panted, gaze gone blurry with the past, and Jared barely caught that husky hint of the years that’d aged him. All he could see and smell was _Jen_ \--warm, Texas summers and young, freckled skin he’d licked and loved.  
  
“Missed you.” Jared’s voice came out higher, almost _childish_ , fingers skittering across Jensen’s skin with near-on desperation as Jensen sucked a bruise at the base of his collarbone, whining deep and grinding up into Jared’s hips. “Please…Jen, wanna--”   
  
“I got you,” Jensen whispered, and it was that same all-knowing protection Jared had equally hated and adored. “Jus’ slow down, Jay. Let me take care of you.”  
  
Like a rubber band snap, Jared’s eyes flew open. He looked down, saw Jensen licking his lips. He wasn’t the boy Jared remembered, neither one of them were, and Jared’s hand smoothed over the crinkles wearing down deep at the corners of Jensen’s eyes. “No,” he said, and watched Jensen blink. A frown worked its way across that goddamn _gorgeous_ mouth, and Jared felt a pang of regret slither down into his belly. Take hold and knot.  
  
“Jay--” Jensen’s eyes roamed back and forth, from Jared’s eyes to his mouth. His tongue wet his lips, made Jared groan a little down deep in his throat. “You gonna make me beg? Fine. _I want you so fucking much._ ”   
  
Jared flinched a little. “Since when.” It wasn’t a question; he wasn’t all that curious. Didn’t want to hear how Jensen was only interested now that he thought maybe Jared wasn’t.  
  
But a red flush was working its way up Jensen’s throat, rooting in his cheeks even as everything else went pale. “Since when…you fucking son of a _bitch_ , Padalecki.” Jensen’s voice broke, his hand squeezing Jared’s neck until Jared felt the press of blunt nails to his skin. “You gonna ask me that? You gonna _ask me?_ ”  
  
“Just did,” came Jared’s response, but the quaver in the words belied the calm composure on his face. He moved in closer, let Jensen catch a whiff of the musky scent on his fingers. “Case ya hadn’t noticed, m’not really hurtin’ for a good, hard fuck anymore, Jensen. Not in a long while.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes went dark so fast Jared blinked, thought he was seeing things. Then, rough, low growl, “Get on the bed,” and he moved without thinking. Soon found himself flat-out on the mattress, Jensen’s hands working his belt and eyes locked on the ceiling.   
  
“Look at me,” Jensen said, and Jared did. Saw the desperation and anger and frustration lighting Jensen’s gaze up, and swallowed hard when Jensen’s hand found his cock. Squeezed him from base to tip, and Jared couldn’t help but buck up into that warm fist, choke on a cry.  
  
“She fuck you like this? Jack you off so hard you grit your teeth and make that pretty little sound…” Jensen was purring now, tongue touching the corner of his mouth as his eyes went narrow, accentuating the crinkles and lines. At Jared’s nod, his fingers, voice, tightened. “You smell like used pussy and spit. Makes me wanna--”  
  
“What?” Jared sat up on his elbows, matched Jensen’s combative tone. Held that green gaze as Jensen lowered his head, dragged his tongue up Jared’s dick like a lewd imitation of a washcloth. “Oh, jesus fuck.”  
  
Jensen groaned a little, reaching for Jared’s hips and jerking him closer. “Wanna swallow you whole, make your toes curl and your belly go all warm…see you lose it, Jay.” He dropped a wet, sucking kiss to Jared’s cockhead, lashes low. “Remember how you used to get so excited, come all quick and messy?”  
  
“Jesus,” Jared muttered again, hands grasping blindly at the sheets while Jensen’s tongue worked dirty over his dick. He’d never been able to get enough of that mouth, and though he’d just fucked Lauren to glazed satisfaction, he could already feel the affects Jensen was speaking of. Had to fight not to rock up, fuck past those swollen-pink lips and rub himself wet across Jensen’s face.  
  
Jensen _was_ swallowing him now; Jared grabbed him by the ears and held on, tripping over coarse words and filthy thoughts. Babbling things he’d have to shoot his own face off for later, but right now he was at home in the warm remembrance of Jensen’s mouth and it was enough.  
  
At least until Jensen pulled off, wiped his chin against his shoulder and stared up at Jared with raw intent shadowing his gaze. “Goddamn, baby.” Voice gone thready and hoarse, and Jared smelled Jensen before he saw the dark stain spreading across blue denim. He had to bite off an oath at the idea of Jensen getting so hot, so worked up just _sucking_ Jared that he’d rubbed off and come all over himself.  
  
A freshly-orgasmed Jensen Ackles was always a damn sight to see, and Jared’s cock twitched in the cool, conditioned air. He was still gleaming wet from Jensen’s mouth, could imagine sliding in deep while Jensen was all warm and relaxed, fucking his hole wide and tasting the filthy curses on Jensen’s tongue.  
  
And then Jensen was straddling his thighs, naked now since Jared hadn’t been paying attention, and reaching for his hand. Jared’s breath caught somewhere in the back of his throat when Jensen shoved two of his fingers between his legs, let Jared feel the slick heat waiting there. He circled those fingers around and around, spreading lube and come and savoring the rapid rise and fall of Jensen’s chest.  
  
“Don’t fuck me around,” Jensen gritted out, eyes heavy and blurred with pupil.  
  
“Gonna,” Jared promised, licking his lips and finally letting a finger press up and inside. He watched Jensen’s throat work around a soft curse, working that single finger in and out and feeling the sinful squeeze in return. “Gonna fuck you all around, ‘cause that’s what you want from me, ain’t it?”  
  
Jensen’s eyes, which’d fallen half-closed while Jared continued fingering his ass, snapped wide open. He stared down, mouth pressed together even as his hips rocked back and forth, encouraging Jared on. “You don’t want it?”  
  
_I want you_. It made Jared’s voice hard, his response a challenge. “You tell me.”  
  
“You’d rather have some tight cunt instead, lick and suck on a pair of pretty pink nipples,” Jensen ground out, easing off of Jared’s hand and reaching back behind him. Then he was rolling latex down Jared’s cock, snapping open a small blue bottle and smearing wet across the length. He resettled himself against Jared’s thighs, leaned down to mouth messy along Jared’s jaw. “You just never knew how tight, how pretty, _I_ could be.”  
  
Which wasn’t _exactly_ true. Even before he’d had Jensen’s ass while hyped up on alcohol and a game well-won, he’d imagined sinking in and taking it as his own. Ever since the first time Jensen’d done it to him--held Jared down one hot night when they’d both been too young to know better, fucked him the way Jared’d been begging him to for years--he’d wondered what it might be like in reverse. But he’d never fully appreciated just how fucking hot, how fucking _perfect_ it’d really be: Jensen, lips chewed-pink and features flushed bright, sliding so goddamn slow down his dick. Still holding him down, _still_ fucking Jared the way he knew Jared wanted.  
  
He was getting off on it, too. Cock half-hard again and slipping through his fingers with every hip-thrust. He rode Jared hard and slow, sexy little grunts and rumbles pouring past his lips until Jared couldn’t take it anymore. Growled and reached up, caught him by those lean hips.  
  
“Such a fucking slut for my cock now,” Jared whispered, biting his lip and dragging his heels up the bed until his knees were bent. He fucked up inside now, watched Jensen struggle not to cry out like a little bitch because it was _all too fucking much._ “Look at you,” he said, wanting to sink his teeth into any bit of that warm, freckled flesh. “Never looked like this in any of your goddamn love scenes.”  
  
“Never fucking felt like this,” came Jensen’s strained response, and Jared swallowed down conflicting emotions. He could feel the edge creeping up close and he wanted Jensen’s mouth while it happened. Said as much, and then he was sucking on warm, wet tongue and curling his toes into the sheets while heat squeezed his balls and came pouring out.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
Jensen’d never been much for cuddling, even back when it might’ve mattered, so Jared was a little unsure of what to do when found himself suddenly playing spoons with the guy. The room smelled of sweat and spunk, and Jared was now frighteningly sober.  
  
“You leaving?” he asked, one hand splayed out across Jensen’s belly. Chin resting against his shoulder, and throat tight with regret as soon as the question came out.  
  
It took a minute to come, but Jensen’s voice was firm and certain. “No.”  
  
Another long moment of silence, and then Jared sat up. Shoved a hand through his hair and reached for the stack of cards on the nightstand. Jensen rolled over at the movement; Jared could feel him watching as he shuffled the deck.  
  
“Well? What’re you waitin’ for?”   
  
Jensen snorted, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in those eyes that made Jared uncomfortably warm and pleased. “You wanna…dude, you’ve got a _serious_ problem,” Jensen huffed, but got off the bed with a little groan, stretching his back before grabbing his underwear and tugging them up his hips.  
  
They settled down on the floor; Jared made a quick call for pizza and cheap beer, and then he set to dealing the cards, watching Jensen’s face for every change in expression. “Money or chips?”  
  
Jensen’s lips curved, he leaned back on an elbow and raised a single brow. “You’re actually letting me decide?”  
  
“Okay, money it is.” Jared’s teeth flashed when Jensen rolled his eyes, looked down at his hand. “Feelin’ lucky, grandpa?”  
  
Jensen flipped him the bird, brows narrowing in concentration, lips coming together in an adorable pout as he studied his hand. Pretending to look at his own, but really studying Jensen from under his hair, Jared felt a wave of nostalgia sweep over him at the entire situation. “Hey, remember that time at the lake--”  
  
“You got your first Broadway and fell off the dock,” Jensen finished, chuckling and meeting Jared’s grin. “Fucking flailing all over the place…long arms and legs. Too big for your own damn good.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.” Flushed and grinning, Jared tapped the community cards laid out on the floor. “Bet?”  
  
“I’ll raise you a nickel,” Jensen said with a lazy pat to each side of his boxers where pockets would normally be. “But you’ll have to take my word for it.”  
  
Jared shook his head, mock-whispered something about cheapskates and prudes. Then coughed. “Fifty-cents.”  
  
“A buck-twenty.”  
  
“The hell you get _that_ amount?” Jared laughed, but dropped his hand and reached for the flop. “And I’ll call, ‘cause it’s startin’ to smell like a barn in here with all this bullshit.”  
  
The first three cards didn’t do much to help Jared’s current deuce-five, but the turn set him up for a full house on the river. Jensen’s sigh of disgust when Jared announced his victory to the empty room like a commentator at an event just made it all the sweeter.  
  
“I love this game,” he crowed, all but blowing on his nails as Jensen threw his cards at Jared’s head and rocked back on his heels.  
  
“Believe me, I know.” There was a smile on his face, but Jensen couldn’t quite hide the exasperation in his voice. Quiet, regretful, and Jared’s grin faded. He dropped his arms from where they were raised high over his head.  
  
“But _you_ don’t, not really.” Just like that, old frustrations and doubts rose up to choke him and he found himself watching Jensen’s face for an explanation. “So what the hell are you playing at, Jensen? With all this.” _After all this fucking time._  
  
He felt himself growing angrier the longer Jensen hesitated, and was ready to mutter something along the lines of “forget it, never fuckin’ mind” when Jensen rubbed a hand down his features.  
  
“Why do you think I’m here?” There wasn’t any accusation in the words, but Jared still took offense.  
  
“I’m supposed to _know?_ ” The laugh that slipped past his lips was bitter and resentful. “Well, I don’t got a clue, Jen! ‘Cause last I knew I wasn’t enough for you, none of this was.”  
  
“Is that right?” Jensen matched his tone. “Jared, you don’t…you’re so goddamn naïve sometimes.”  
  
“So it’s all my fault.” Jared laughed without humor. “Great, I was waitin’ for that.”  
  
Jensen sucked in a deep breath. “I never wanted it to happen that way, all right? You gotta know that.”  
  
“You mean you never meant for it to happen at all,” Jared shot back, and had the nasty pleasure of seeing Jensen’s guilty flush. “I get it, I do. We…we were hot, right? But that’s all it ever was.”  
  
Jensen’s jaw worked around an irritated mutter. “For the love of God.”  
  
“I’m over it.”  
  
“Yeah, I can tell.”  
  
Jared ground his own teeth, resisting the urge to scoot over and wrap his hands around Jensen’s throat. “You don’t believe me? I didn’t think about you at all, gallivanting around fuckin’ California… _never look back, Jay_ ,” he mimicked, fingers clenching in the carpet as Jensen stared at him. “You told me that!”  
  
“I was an idiot.” The words came clipped and pointed, and Jared would’ve choked on the admission if Jensen’s next words didn’t wipe clean every thought in his head. “Jared, I love you, I swear…but you make me goddamn crazy. Always have.”  
  
“Fuck you! You. _What?_ ” Something white-hot and suffocating wrapped tight around him; he stared into Jensen’s suddenly exhausted face. “Did you seriously just lay that on me _now?_ ”  
  
“Should I have written it down and sent it through the mail?” Jensen snarked, dropping back to lay flat against the floor. “Fuck, I feel old. You never get anything that doesn’t involve a straight flush or a goddamn big blind.”  
  
Jared’s mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. Then, “Holy shit.” He felt a little bit nauseous, which made no sense considering this was pretty much the moment he’d been waiting for since the minute he’d heard the words “I’m Jensen, but you can call me Jen.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jensen laughed, but it sounded more like a groan. “It ever occur to you that maybe I wasn’t the one who needed convincing?”  
  
“Jensen--”   
  
“I left because I wanted to feel the way you felt about something for once. Something besides _you_ , but.” Jensen sat up, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth a firm line. Before Jared could blink, Jensen was right _there_ …close enough to touch, to count every freckle and laugh-line that’d haunted him for years backward and forward. “But it’s never gonna happen, is it? Tex never folds.”  
  
“I never fold,” Jared repeated softly, and saw Jensen’s smile turn sad. Then Jensen’s mouth was pressing hard against his, but before he could sink into it, get a good grip, Jensen was standing and pulling on his clothes. Jared stayed frozen as Jensen walked behind him; he buried a hand in Jared’s hair and dropped his forehead against his back.   
  
“Yeah, I know.” Quick press of lips that burned between Jared’s shoulder-blades. “See you around, Tex.”  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_Because every gambler knows that the secret to survivin’  
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep._  
  
  
**2007 World Series: Main Event: Final Table & Final Hand.**  
  
  
The twelfth day of the main event saw thunderheads streaking the Nevada sky, and Jared was wired on his fourth cup of coffee by the time play resumed for the final table. It saw the match-up the media had been waiting for since the start of the tournament, Texas versus Texas, and the competition Jared had been fearing for days.  
  
He was mildly surprised that no one had picked up on the thread of connection between he and Jensen yet. Chalked it up to how careful Jensen had been at claiming Dallas as his birthplace and hometown, and leaving off any mention of those few choice years spent further south.  
  
When Jensen sat down across from him, red cap low over his eyes, he offered a tired smile that Jared savored more than the caffeine rushing through his system. He couldn’t take his eyes away, that same ache curling through his chest, his belly, since the night Jensen’d left his suite.   
  
“You ready for this?” Jensen asked while counting his chips, and he sounded friendly enough. But Jared could read the distance in his voice, knew Jensen was dreading the outcome as much as Jared, though probably for different reasons.  
  
“I…” Jared cleared his throat, felt lame, and sick. “You wanna coffee?”  
  
Jensen’s lips quirked, and he didn’t look up. “That’d be great.”  
  
The ESPN crew was setting up over in the corner; people were filling in the gallery and talking quietly while Jared stared at his opponent with helpless dissatisfaction. He caught Chad’s eye, grateful when his best friend came over to wish him well before the game.  
  
“You nervous?” Chad asked, all grin and making Jared laugh.  
  
“Not as nervous as you,” he quipped, and raised a brow when he saw the redhead from the other night waiting at one of the tables. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like I ain’t the one makin’ action today.”  
  
Chad just snorted, and then something curious came over his features. For a minute he almost looked like he was gonna walk away, and then he lowered his voice, clapped Jared on the back. “Look man, no matter what happens…never look back, all right?”  
  
Jared stared after him, the words ringing in his ears as Chad took his seat in the gallery and hooked an arm around Red’s shoulders. When he glanced again at Jensen, he found the older man watching him with unreadable eyes.  
  
The lights dimmed down, the cameras started to roll, and Jared imagined the commentating crew getting busy in the booth. Probably going on about the dream match-up, when Jared hadn’t felt this sick to his stomach since the first time he sat down and struck out after a single hand.   
  
The dealer tossed him two cards, and the game was begun.  
  
_Jared Padalecki, our chip leader, trying to win another bracelet at this World Series final table. Jared a dominating chip leader right now, wearing the bracelet that he won **last** year. Jensen Ackles trying for his first._  
  
Jared stared down at his hand-- _ace-seven, offsuit_ \--and raised to sixty-thousand. Jensen smiled a little, just a flash of acknowledgment that made Jared go warm all over.   
  
_The pot at ninety-thousand…and the dreaded ace-king for Jensen Ackles! Ackles says re-raise!_  
  
“Sixteen.” Jensen tossed some of his own chips on the table, a frown on his lips as Jared tried not to fidget in his seat like an amateur. “And I think I can put all the rest in.”  
  
_And he’s all in! Jensen doesn’t like to talk much at the table, other than occasionally asking the dealer for a card._  
  
The lights felt too hot, he was starting to sweat. Everyone was watching them and all Jared wanted to do was throw down his cards and ask Jensen _why._ Why now, why at all? Why could they never get a fucking break when it came to one another?  
  
_Re-raise back to Padalecki, he’s one forty-five to call. Jared would like to avoid the courtesy double-up, he’s getting two-to-one on his money here, but if he calls he’ll be a three-to-one ‘dog. Ackles with the ace-king all in has the advantage…but if Padalecki goes in, he’ll easily have Ackles covered._   
  
He was gonna win this hand. He didn’t even need to know what cards Jensen was holding, because that same instinct that’d seen him through countless hands and more bluffs than he could remember at the moment was tingling. If he went all in, he was gonna win, and be twelve million dollars richer.  
  
Jensen was watching him, starting to look a bit confused the longer Jared hesitated. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and thrumming despite the fact that there were at least fifteen cameras trained on them and no reason for anyone to believe he’d care. “Jared.”  
  
_“Never look back, Jay. No matter what.”_  
  
All at once, it was that easy. That fucking _simple_ , and Jared laughed softly and felt like dropping his head to his hands. He could hear the confused murmurs from the crowd, still felt Jensen’s concerned gaze, but he couldn’t stop laughing.  
  
The media would have a field day; he’d be labeled a fool, a wash, it’d probably go down as one of the biggest fuck-ups in poker history.   
  
It was absolutely fucking spectacular.  
  
Twelve million dollars on the line. His happiness, his goddamn career. Jared Padalecki laid down his hand and said, “I fold.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
“You’ve got a new nickname.” Chad stood in the middle of the doorway later that night, mouth a smirk when Jared looked up from packing his suitcase. At the raise of his brows, Chad rattled off, "Laundry. Get it? Do you?"  
  
Jared snorted despite himself, tucked a pair of Henley’s in behind his jeans and zipped the bag up. “That’ll look real good on my resume, thanks.”  
  
“So why’d you do it? You knew you had that hand.” It spoke a lot of their friendship that _Chad_ knew that, and that he wasn’t blaming Jared for the decision that’d lost him a tournament and made him the current laughingstock of the entire sport.  
  
Jared sat on the bed, a faint smile on his lips as he glanced up and met his friend’s gaze. “Maybe I just fucked up, you ever think of that?”  
  
“Bullshit. This is about Jensen.” Chad’s eyes were narrow and assessing. “Guy sure as hell doesn’t need an extra twelve mil, so what’s really going on, Jared?”  
  
“It wasn’t for Jensen,” Jared said, squinting out the window where the rain was now pouring down. “Believe it or not, it was for me. I’m in a rut, Chad.”  
  
“You’re the goddamn world champion,” Chad countered, but the words were more curious than heated. “Or you were. You can’t tell me you don’t still love the game, no matter how you feel about that pretty boy.”  
  
At one time, the words could’ve just as easily come from _Jared’s_ mouth. It was a startling realization, and one that further cemented his decision. “Never look back,” he murmured, more to himself, and then he looked up and past Chad. Saw Jensen standing at the door.  
  
“Beat it,” Jensen said easily, not taking his eyes off of Jared. Chad made a face and disappeared, but not before Jared caught the grin he was trying to hide.  
  
“Hey,” was all Jared could think to say, suddenly feeling like that awkward, gangly eleven year old who’d woken up one summer day and met his future. When Jensen didn’t speak, just kept watching him with impassive features, Jared stood up. Scratched his ear. “Uh, how’s it going?”  
  
There was a flicker of movement across Jensen’s face, something between a smile and a frown, and then Jared was bouncing flat against the mattress. Jensen crawled over him, hands cupping the back of Jared’s head as he growled against his throat, “Can’t you ever just do anything nice and quiet? Without twenty cameras around?”  
  
“Fuck that,” Jared laughed, voice shot and dick hard as Jensen mouthed along his jaw. Worked his hand down and across Jared’s crotch and _squeezed._  
  
“No. I’m gonna fuck _you_.” It was a filthy purr, a promise without soft words, and better than roses and moonlight and a freaking love sonnet on perfumed paper. One minute Jared was flat on his back and fully-clothed, the next Jensen was dragging him up to his knees, fitting skin-to-skin behind him.  
  
“What’ll you do with the twelve million?” Jared gasped as Jensen bit down on his shoulder, his hand sliding around to jack Jared’s cock. “Buy another-- _ah, fuck_ \--condo on the beach?”  
  
Jensen’s voice came on a low groan as he sucked a blood-bruise to the surface of Jared’s neck. Reached down and let a finger brush between his legs so that Jared grunted, spread wide. “Maybe. Will you let me fuck you in a condo on the beach?”   
  
“Sure you can handle that, minute-man?” Jared bit his lip as Jensen’s fingers worked deep, and dropped his head into a pillow to muffle a curse. “And you can fuck me in a shack in the woods, _good goddamn_.”  
  
Jensen laughed, nuzzled his neck until he could fit his lips across Jared’s. “Good,” he breathed a long minute later. “Because I don’t have a fuckin’ condo…shouldn’t believe everything you read in People magazine.”  
  
Jared stretched his arm out, reaching for his wallet on the night table, but Jensen slapped it away. Muttered under his breath, confusing Jared until he heard the distinct sound of foil wrapper crinkling and glanced back to see Jensen slicking himself. Rolling the rubber down his dick.  
  
He opened his mouth to say, god only knew what, something along the lines of _I’m quitting the tour for awhile_ , but all that came out was, “I love you even if you don’t have a condo.”  
  
When it came to declarations, it wasn’t much of one. Jared felt his face heat up as Jensen froze still behind him, and the combination of their harsh breathing sounded like a death march in his ears.  
  
“I’m sorry for leaving,” Jensen finally choked out, thick and gruff. “And if you’ll just forgive me I swear to God, I’ll--”   
  
Jared cut off the words to follow, sure to embarrass them _both_ later when things weren’t so damn in-your-face and emotional, and reached back. Pulled Jensen up closer and thrust his hips. “C’mon.”  
  
Jensen only hesitated a moment before giving in, pressing up and inside, and just like that...   
  
Jared Padalecki won it all, all over again.  
  
  
**The End**


End file.
